


Fear's In The Water

by TVBS



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: 2016 lunar cycle used, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVBS/pseuds/TVBS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Managing thirteen whole weeks of paid vacation would normally be cause for celebration. For Michael Jones, it means he gets to spend time at a beach resort and soak up some rays, swim a bit... and be told never to go out too far in the ocean, either swimming or in a boat. Things live out there. Things that steal human lives...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Don't fall for anyone in the water. It was an old wives tale, he thought as he worked. Or was it a warning not to fall in love with your own reflection? Whatever it was, it didn't really mean much now. With a grunt, he pulled the net onto the boat, looking down at the fish haul with a grin. This was all he had to worry about now: How to get his living. And damn if he wasn't good at it. Not as good as Ramsey or Pattillo, or even Dooley, but he wasn't going to hurt for anything. No, he didn't have to worry about stupid old wives tales or warnings. Just get the fish.

A splash caught his attention. It was _big_. What the hell? He was certain he was the only human out here, and there shouldn't be anything that big out there. Confused, he looked over the side, then started when he saw a face look up at him as it sunk into the depths.

There was someone down there! Someone drowning! Without thinking about it, he dove in, powerful strokes bringing him deeper and deeper into the water. Where was that person? It looked like a boy... no, a man. A young man. He had to be around here-

Suddenly, something cold wrapped around his ankle and yanked. The surface of the water grew further and further away as he fought the grip on his ankle, finally kicking it off. He was about to make a break for the surface, the other man be damned before he felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. When he looked up, he saw the man he was trying to rescue. They looked at each other for a moment...

Then the other man smiled as his tail wrapped around them and his ear fins finally perked up from the side of his head, teeth razor sharp.

* * *

It's a thing that sounded like it came from the everyday worker's fevered imagination.

Thirteen weeks. _Paid_ vacation.

It sounded like it couldn't be true. But nope, the longer Michael looked at his timesheet, the more he realized he had just let his vacation build that much. He actually had that much time to take off of work. "So," he started, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. Thirteen weeks. Fuck. "You're telling me that we're going to a new PTO plan. And you're forcing everyone that has vacation time to take it now so they don't lose it."

"Pretty much." Michael didn't even have to look at his boss to see the disgruntled look. Corporate was probably forcing him to make sure all his electricians took their vacation before going to the new PTO schedule. "Your turn's up, Jones."

His turn. His turn to go on vacation and not deal with whiny customers, a nagging boss, electrical issues up the ass...

The grin that crossed his face probably wasn't polite but fuck that.

* * *

About time he had been able to go to the beach again. Last time he did, it had been with his family and his brother had been pinching him the entire way there and back. Well, this time no one was pinching anyone and he got a room to himself! Michael grinned as he fell backwards onto the bed, arms spread. Fuck, thirteen weeks of this. His credit card would last thirteen weeks paying for this hotel room, and he would just pay anything else from his bank account. Spending thirteen fucking weeks in paradise would be too easy.

Speaking of, he should probably wash up and get something to eat. He had been driving all day and he didn't want to kill anyone with his body odor when getting dinner. With a grunt, Michael peeled himself out of bed and made his way for the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went. The hot water from the shower felt so good pounding on his back, and as he washed up he was so glad Lindsay had reminded him to bring his own soap and shampoo. What the fuck would he do without her? Seriously, no way he was going to be able to live on those shitty little things the hotel provided. For a moment, he stood there under the spray of the water and just let the water run on him, enjoying the heat soak into his bones without worrying about having to go to work in an hour. It was rare enough he was able to do this, rarer still that he knew he would be able to do this for just over three months. And he didn't even have to pay for all this water he was wasting.

Finally, he stretched and shut off the shower. He was starting to prune, after all. And oh, the towels were just as soft and fluffy as they looked. Michael paused as he dried his face, groaning a little at the soft fabric. After a bit, he pulled the towel off his face and proceeded to dry off, vigorously toweling his hair as he stepped back into the room. He started to root around for clothes, tossing the towel back into the bathroom. Oh, he should probably text Lindsay... once he found his phone. Michael pulled his underwear and pants on, looking around the room for his phone- there. He quickly pulled on his shirt before picking it up, firing off a quick text thanking her for reminding him to take actual soap and shampoo.

It was while he was hunting down his deodorant that he got the text back.

_No problem. So, you covered in hot beach bitches yet?_

He laughed, his thumbs already typing out the reply.

_I just got here, Linds! Besides, no girl can ever replace you in my heart._

_Aww. You're sweet. But no, seriously, go meet someone. Or a hot beach dude, if you don't want a chick. I don't judge. But fuck someone. I think your dick's about to mutiny._

He should have never told her it had been over a year since he last got laid.

_Aye aye. Everything going well back there?_

_Well as it can be. Don't worry about it! You go meet your beach lover and have lots of wild vacation sex. See you in August!_

Michael laughed a bit, texting one last _See ya_ before looking out the window, moving the curtains out of the way. He had gotten a beachfront view, and high enough up that he could see the ocean stretch out forever. It looked so lovely, the vivid sunset colors splashed against the skin and reflected in the watery mirror below. He should hunt down some dinner right about now. Maybe bring it back up to his room and watch the moon rise over the endless expanse.

... pizza. Order a pizza, get it delivered to his room. That way he didn't have to go anywhere and he could just watch the sky darken bit by bit as the sun disappeared over the horizon. He never could watch a sunset like this normally, and he never knew it was so beautiful. Fuck. He needed to take a few minutes out of more days just to watch sunsets. Or maybe it was just more impressive because he was getting paid to watch this sunset.

That was probably it.

Finally, the sky went dark. The moon hadn't quite risen yet, but that was enough for Michael. Time to order pizza. Once he was done (thirty minutes. He could do that), he flopped back onto his bed, looking up at his dark ceiling.

He'd probably get bored before too long, but right now the novelty of being on paid vacation still rode high within him. He was being paid to fuck around right now. If he took Lindsay's advice, he would be paid to have that wild vacation sex. And he would keep getting forty hour paychecks. Fuck, this was so nice. Slowly, he sat up and turned on his lamp. What was he going to do tomorrow? Probably swim a bit, though he should probably go shopping first. Lindsay did not remind him to get sunscreen, and he did not want to deal with a sunburn for these three months.

With that thought, he started to pull the curtains closed before pausing. The moon had just started to rise, a beautiful full moon that bounced radiant lines off the water. But in that light, he could catch a glimpse of someone down by the beach, walking out of the water.

And something didn't quite look right. Michael squinted, trying to make it out. What was wrong? He frowned, practically squishing his forehead against the window, his glasses digging into his face as he looked. Well, obviously whoever it was didn't have clothes on. But before that, before they physically stood up out of the water, something about the legs didn't seem right.

Then a knock at his door startled him. Fuck. It must have been thirty minutes already. Michael grabbed his wallet and went to the door, ready to pay for some delicious pizza.

* * *

He was never going to be sober the entire three months he was here. Never. Not after finding this holy grail of a drink. Holy fuck.

Okay, so maybe he would have to be responsible with it. He and tequila never quite got along, and he didn't want to deal with three months of hangovers. But oh man, he never knew of a St. Rita before and he would need to make them again later. This was amazing. Fucking hell, if these three months passed by in an alcoholic daze, they were well spent as long it was on these things.

... mm, St. Ritas.

Well, if he was drunk, probably not a good idea to go swimming. He didn't want to drown, after all. But sunning himself would probably be a thing. Just lay out on the beach with a shitton of sunscreen on and just relax. That he could definitely do.

And then he made his way down to the beach and changed his mind at the first shrill shriek of a child.

Right. It was May. People were probably already getting ready for summer vacation. Nope. He wasn't going to try to relax around screaming shitstains of children. There had to be another place around here. With that thought, he turned back around and went for a walk further down, looking for a place that would be great to relax at and not be filled with people.

But the beach was starting to fill up, and there really wasn't anywhere to go that didn't have at least one set of children shrieking like their clothes were on fire. There was a pier... but even then there were couples standing there, making goo-goo eyes at each other and making out. And since he didn't have anyone...

This sucked.

Well, he could always go a little further than most people. A little past the usual beach. The ground was a bit rocky, not good for his balance. But the sounds of people faded away as he climbed up on a rock, staring out over the ocean.

Fuck, it was even better during the day. Michael leaned back, taking it in. Yeah, he might be drunk as fuck right now, but it didn't change the fact it was still a lovely sight. And relaxing too. The sound of the waves rushed around him, coaxing him to close his eyes. Just for a moment. Yeah. Just for that one... small... moment.

When Michael woke up, it took him a moment to realize something was wrong. The area around him was still dry. But... when he looked over, the passage back to his hotel had been flooded by high tide. Fuck. Michael groaned, running a hand through his hair. He could probably swim back to the beach. It wasn't like it was far. But still. This was annoying. His stomach growled, adding in that it was probably time for something akin to food and not liquor. Fine, he would make it back to his hotel, change, and eat. There had to be something good out there.

The water was colder than he expected when he lowered himself in. But it was still early summer. That would probably do it. By the time he left, it would probably be quite warm. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was swim back to shore as fast as possible. His arms and feet propelled him through the water, moving him towards the crowded beach.

Suddenly, something cold grabbed his ankle. With a hard kick, he managed to dislodge it, but the skin still stung. Shit, if he was stung by a jellyfish... he'd look at it when he got back to shore. Fuck, it hurt though. The passing of the water just made it sting worse and worse. Finally, he made it to the outskirts of the beach and stumbled onto shore, sitting down heavily and pulling his foot up to look at it.

A long bleeding scratch circled around his ankle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, in part, inspired by something that actually happened to me. When I first got vacation at my first job, they instantly put me on a week of vacation because it was the end of the fiscal year and I had to use it or lose it. I went straight to Corpus Christi and spent a week at a beachside hotel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kinda? KINDA? loosely basing where Michael is off of Corpus Christi, TX. I'm trying not to put in obvious stuff like the USS Lexington (if you go to Corpus Christi, go to that. It's great), but at the same time there are references to Whattaburger Field and horseback riding tours.
> 
> Also, something I learned while researching for this is what Michael (and a lot of people!) call "undertow" is actually a rip current! Neat!

Note to self: Do not fall asleep in the sun.

Michael grumbled as he slathered on more aloe vera, feeling the cool gel spread across his sunburn, thanking Lindsay yet again for her foresight. Even with the sunscreen, he had been out long enough that he had burned. Great. On his first day and everything. Carefully, he laid back down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He would have to be more careful. Not get as drunk so he didn't pass out. Or at least not go off the main beach. Maybe get one of those umbrella things to hide under if he passed out. Which meant buying more stuff today. Why didn't anyone tell him that vacation could get so expensive?

Nothing was getting done by just looking up at the ceiling. Michael sat up, reaching for a shirt to gingerly pull over his head. He'd go get something to eat, then grab a few things to make chilling on the beach a little easier. Maybe some snacks and just beer this time. St. Ritas were fucking amazing, but he looked at his bank account today and shit. Yeah, no. He had managed to squirrel away enough money that he could splurge a bit, but not enough to drink nothing but those. Though, he would fucking love to get hammered on them one night. That would be one wild night. But today, just beer. They would let him have cans on the beach, right? The warning just said no glass. Aluminum cans would probably be fine.

As he stood up, he hissed a little in pain as his pants legs fell into place around his ankles. That scratch still stung. It stopped bleeding fairly quickly, but still. He didn't want to get back into the water until that healed. Nope, no salt water on that thing.

Actually, where did that leave him to go? Drink and fall asleep on the beach? With the screaming shitstains and the parents not willing to contain them, he really didn't want to do that for long. There were museums and aquariums... that wouldn't be too bad, probably. Spend a day there while he healed up a bit. Or maybe he'd go sit on that pier. There had to be a place there where he could enjoy the ocean and he wasn't painfully reminded he was single. Problem with that was he would be out in the sun again. Fuck. There had to be other things to do around town once he was done with the museums and aquariums. Something big and famous.

... weren't there like boat rentals? Once his sunburned healed a bit, or if he went out there with like a hat and a fucking shirt on, he might go out in a boat. That sounded neat.

Right now, though, he needed to get things. First: that umbrella.

Maybe he'd spend a little time at the beach before it got too crazy. It really was such a nice beach.

* * *

A better idea would be to come down when it was dark, Michael thought sourly as another shrieking child ran by. What the fuck?! Why didn't parents even try to restrain their kids anymore? Grumbling, Michael packed his umbrella and beer up, making his way off the beach. Yeah, sure, he ran the risk of finding couples deciding it would be fun having sex under the moonlight, but it would be so much quieter.

He should go out for a few drinks tonight, he decided as he made his way back to his hotel. He wouldn't get anywhere with the whole getting laid on vacation thing if he just hung out on the beach. And a few days waking up with a fucking terrible hangover wouldn't be that bad. Just proof that he had a great night.

On his way, his eye caught sight of a boat pulling into a dock. Fishing boat, probably. It didn't look like a tourist one. Interesting that it was coming back _now_.

More interesting was the young man that stepped out. Short but powerful looking, little younger than him. He didn't look anything like any fisherman _Michael_ would have thought of. He looked more like a gymnast, to be honest. And holy shit that was a harpoon he was tucking away. What the fuck was in the water that required a fucking harpoon? Michael nervously looked back at the water, then at the fisherman. They would have told them if sharks were in the water, right?

Right?

The young man left the docks, heading for a small building. Fuck, going swimming now sounded so bad knowing something out there required a fucking harpoon. He didn't need that just to catch fish.

Why the hell wasn't there any warnings put up? That would be something important to know! Michael continued to make his way back to the hotel, his mind chewing what he saw over. If there were sharks or something... wouldn't there be reports? Something like that couldn't exactly be kept hidden easily. Then he would have heard something already. So why did he need a harpoon? What the fuck was in the water?

Maybe there was nothing, and that was just in case. If there was something, they'd know. Signs would be posted. So maybe he was just worrying about nothing.

That was probably it.

The scratch on his ankle throbbed as he made his way back to his room.

* * *

If he went to one more aquarium he would scream.

Maybe he'd catch a baseball game tomorrow, but fuck. Enough with the staying off the beach. Everything was fucking fine. And he could deal with a few children. Just remember to put on sunscreen every few hours and he'd be golden.

With a sigh, Michael let himself fall back onto the bed. He had expected to get bored at some point, but not this soon. Fuck. There was a lot to do here, but did he really want to catch a minor league game? Or go horseback riding of all things? His junk ached at the thought of just being on a horse. Though, if it got too bad he'd go do fucking handstands on a horse. Just do go do something. 

Or maybe he could just sit in his hotel room with his DS and play some games. Play games on the company's dollar. He was getting paid to do all this shit, after all. Vacation was awesome.

He just really wanted to go back down to the beach, though. That was why he came. Not to sit in his room, not to go wandering around the city, but to go out and be on the beach. Maybe find some girl to have meaningless vacation sex with. Not this.

... fuck it. He was going down there now. Fuck that it dark now. If he stayed out of the secluded areas, he could pretend he had the beach to himself. The college hadn't let out for summer yet, had it? Fuck, even if it had, he was still going down. The college kids would probably be on a better stretch of sand to get drunk on. This bit of beach was his.

With that thought, Michael changed into his swimming trunks and a shirt, duffle bag of beer and his room key in hand, and made his way down to the beach. It was getting noticeably cooler, to the point it was actually quite nice outside when he finally got there. Still kind of sticky, but nice. Michael flopped down onto the sand as he tossed the duffle bag aside, letting himself fall backwards, arms outstretched. Now this felt nice. Just the roar of the ocean making it seem like he was the only one out here. Hell, he could go for a swim if he wanted. Hell, he kind of did want to. That sounded neat. Michael looked up at the waning moon, and made his decision.

He sat up, arms reaching up behind his head to yank his shirt off. The shirt fell to the sand as he ran for the ocean. Water rushed up around his ankles, cool and refreshing. Michael waded in deeper, the water quickly coming up to his chest. He dunked his head under the waves for a moment, then looked around. Fuck, it was nice right now. Maybe a little further out... just so he couldn't touch the sand easily anymore.

Only problem with that were waves. He moved towards where there didn't seem to be as many waves, still heading further out.

It was too late when he realized the current around him. The water seemed to pull him out further and further with a terrible grip, and nothing he could do to try to get back to the shore could stop it. A thought occurred to him, that he walked _into_ the current so if he were to swim _out_ of it instead of against it... but that was quickly replaced with the thought that of course he'd fucking come down when there were no lifeguards around and he drowned in the fucking _undertow_. He started to get tired, felt himself float backwards, his feet lifting up as he went...

Then the current stopped. Michael blinked, lowering his feet and trying to reach the ground. Fuck, it must have really sharply fell off, because he couldn't even touch it if he really stretched. Not even close. He was a little curious how deep it was, since it was dark and he couldn't see very well. Not about to go diving down under the ocean during the night, though! Not after being caught in the fucking undertow. And now that he was apparently at the head of it or something, he was going to swim back towards his stuff. To one side, then back down. That should do it.

And then something grabbed his ankle and yanked.

Before his head fell under the surface of the water, Michael managed to gulp down one huge lungful of air, holding it as he struggled. The bond on his ankle held tight, almost dragging him out to sea further as it pulled him down. His other foot came down and started kicking whatever was holding him, feeling something scrape along his skin. Finally, it let go, and Michael started swimming for the surface.

And then two hands grabbed his shoulders.

Michael couldn't see who stopped him. It was too dark, and the water distorted too much. But whoever it was just held him there under the water. Just the two of them, under the water, someone holding tightly onto Michael's shoulders as he struggled to get free, his lungs burning with the need for air. The hands fell away, and Michael's head broke the surface of the water.

For a moment, all he could do was breathe. Then, he turned, trying to find the fucker that had tried to drown him.

But all he could see was a dark fishy shape swimming away.


	3. Chapter 3

If Michael was crazy, he would say he was just attacked by a mermaid.

But he's not crazy.

Because mermaids _don't fucking exist_ , he told himself as he turned on the shower in his hotel room. What he saw wasn't a fucking mermaid. It was some asshole that swam off when he wasn't looking, and the fish shape he saw was a fucking fish. That was all. Michael peeled off his sand caked swim trunks and climbed into the shower, rinsing the salt off his body. Some dickhat had a sick sense of humor. That wasn't...

Michael paused, the bar of soap clenched in his hand. Fuck. He had to keep telling himself that. That it was okay, and he didn't have to not go back into the ocean. That whoever it was wouldn't be there again the next time he went out. But fuck, he just kept feeling the hand around his ankle pulling him down and away from shore, and the way the hands held onto his shoulders before dropping away.

Which was interesting. Michael didn't... he didn't push them away. They fell away on their own. Maybe dickless realized he was being an asshat and let him go? Less plausible things had happened. But that just didn't explain the fish. The big fucking ass fish.

It was nothing. Michael mentally repeated the words over and over as he finished cleaning up, turning the shower off. It was nothing. Everything was fine.

... maybe he would not go down to the beach for a few days. Try out that horseback riding thing. That might be fun.

Michael took a deep breath, grabbing the towel and starting to dry off. Yeah. Do things off the beach. Hell, he didn't even have to leave his hotel room. He was being paid just for being here. Or he could do the bar crawl thing he'd been meaning to do. Wasn't it about time for the next paychecks to hit the bank? Yeah, he should have a new flush of money, ready to be turned into liquor. He could do that also.

He had been trying so hard not to look at his feet. Somehow, he knew what he'd see after kicking that asshat off would break the illusion he was building for himself. He didn't need to see why his feet were stinging. They'll be fine.

Everything will be fine.

* * *

So many hot people. And of course they would all be loud, drunk college students. Looked like he was wrong. School had already let out earlier this month, and now the summer idiots were back. Shouldn't they be actually studying school instead of going out on the town and getting drunk? Of course, they could have always been here. Michael hadn't been going out to get drunk at night, after all. So it was possible they were always here, and it was just now that he could fully enjoy the experience.

Fucking college kids.

Maybe he'd just go drink by the beach. Not actually go in the water, but just hang out under a moon rapidly growing thin. It would be a new moon soon, wouldn't it? Fuck, he didn't know when. Early June, probably. Heh, it'd be funny if it was tomorrow, Saturday, since the Saturday he arrived was the full moon. Fuck, had he already been here two weeks? Where had all the time gone?

Other than spending time seeing all the sights and playing Pokemon in his hotel room, that was. And failing to convince himself to just go back down to the beach. Nothing has happened to anyone else. It'll be okay. Fuck, even now when he thought about it, it sounded stupid. Some dumbass had played a prank on him. Probably one of these stupid kids. If he ever found out who it was, he was going to knock their teeth out. But that meant it was perfectly okay to get back into the water. He was psyching himself out over nothing.

Just... fuck. He was not going to take this shit any long. Paying for his tab, Michael left the bar and started back down to the beach. It would be dark, but he would rather deal with that than sit in a bar full of young twenty-somethings (he had no illusions how many of them were under 21, and how many had just turned 21). So with that thought, he sat down on the sand, looking over at the black sea and watching the sparkling stars above.

It really was nice out here. Cool, breezy, quiet, and just... nice. Michael closed his eyes, letting the alcoholic buzz meld with the sound of the ocean.

After a bit, he frowned. Under the sound of the waves, he heard something. Something... strange. He couldn't place his finger on it. It was almost... no, singing wasn't the right word. Melodic was close, but even still... it wasn't right. Michael opened his eyes, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Was it music he was hearing? Something experimental he had never even thought of before?

Someone walked behind him, stopping when they noticed Michael looking around. "You hear it too?" came the male voice, quiet.

Michael turned, making out the figure of the young fisherman he had seen before. "What is it?"

"Something dangerous. Don't go into the water when you hear that."

And with those words, the fisherman left.

* * *

What Michael was told stuck with him the entire night. There actually was something in the water. Something dangerous. But... what was it? What could have made that noise?

His mind kept going to mermaids, to a siren-like song, which just sounded dumb. Mermaid didn't exist, and if they did, they would be doing some Ariel bullshit. But he just had to know. Curiosity was burning in him now, brighter than his wariness. Bright enough that he started to make plans to go down to the beach right at sunrise, and make his way out in the ocean to catch a glimpse of what made that noise. He'd stay where his feet could touch the ground, just so he wasn't pulled down again. But he just had to know.

A part of him shrieked at him that the song was working, that it was a siren call, but it was pushed aside as Michael got dressed for his trip down to the beach. Without much thought, he walked briskly into the water, looking around him for any sign of what could have been making that noise.

Nothing.

Maybe it was deeper. Michael started walking deeper into the ocean, his feet starting to barely being able to scrape the bottom.

Still nothing.

He needed to get back. It was getting too deep, and it was possible some idiot was about to try to drown him again. But- he still couldn't find it! Maybe just a little deeper. Michael started swimming properly, arms and legs moving to propel him further into the ocean.

And then a dark shape swam under him.

Michael paused, treading water. Something was here. He shouldn't have done this. It still wasn't light enough for him to see what it was. Fuck, he needed to turn around-

Then, as before, a hand yanked his head below water, dragging him deeper below the surface and further into the ocean. Michael struggled, kicking at the cold hand, trying to get it to let go. He looked down, trying to see what it was, only for his blood to freeze in his veins.

A dark haired youth looked up at him, fins floating around his face. His tanned body melded into dark scales on his arms and tail. Fuck, a tail. A _merman._

With a burst of strength Michael didn't know he had, he managed to kick the hand around his ankle off, breaking for the surface. Before he did, another hand grabbed his wrist, making him look over and see the merman wasn't alone. There was another, another young man, light tanned with sandy hair floating around his grinning face. And oh God, those teeth... Michael pulled, trying to take his arm back as the other merman turned to take him deeper, his lungs already crying out with the effort.

God. He was going to drown. All because he didn't trust his instincts about mermaids and listen to a fisherman about things being dangerous.

Then another dark shape, and the hand around his wrist let go. A strong arm wrapped around his middle, only now it propelled him upward, out of the water. Michael's head broke the surface, and he gasped a sudden, much needed breath. The intake of oxygen started to make him dizzy, and Michael felt himself going slack in the grip still holding him up. As he started to lose consciousness, a part of him realized who was holding him up had fins as well.

* * *

Michael's face was pressed into dirt when he woke up.

It surprised him enough that he came fully awake suddenly, looking around. He looked like he was in some kind of cave, at the mouth of a river. Or... the ocean. Michael scrubbed some dirt off his cheek, coughing a little as he remembered. Remembered going out into the ocean. The hand on his ankle. The hand on his wrist. The-

The mermen, with fins on their heads and razor sharp teeth.

And the strong arm, pulling him out to safety.

Michael sighed, shifting to stand up. His foot kicked something under a bed of seaweed as he did, and he paused, frowning. What the hell? What did he kick? He leaned over, and nearly fell over when he found it.

It was a human skull, one of many under the seaweed.


End file.
